


House on fire

by firehawk05



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firehawk05/pseuds/firehawk05
Summary: Spawned by a prompt involving fire alarms and having to evacuate the building in the middle of the night.  Marvel owns all the characters.  I just play with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This really spawned from a tumblr prompt that went along these lines "the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear". I meant it to be a short cherik thing before plot got in the way. 
> 
> It's sort of in an AU set post x men apocalypse in the mansion. Erik is back with the team. And some characters were roped in for plot purposes. 
> 
> Subsequent chapters may be triggering for abuse, bad foster parents and dubious consent for mutant experimentation. You have been warned. 
> 
> Bold and italicised text represents telepathic communication or images.  
> Unvoiced mental thoughts are in italics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.   
> \- African Proverb.

**_A lazy, seductive heat._  ** **_Blue and almost invisible flames lick slowly over the bed sheets before spreading up the headboard._ ** **_An overwhelming feeling of shame..._ **

I’m dragged out of restless, confused dreams by a nerve-jangling cacophony of alarms. 

Erik swears loudly and sits up. 

"Damn it, Charles. I should have never have let you talk me into installing smoke detectors."

I lie still a while longer, trying to piece together my scattered thoughts. Then with a sigh, I realize what has happened. Discipline takes over and I focus, seeking the mind of a particular student. 

**_John. It's me. Show me how bad it is._ **

  
...

  
I turn to Erik as struggles to get his clothes on.  
  
"Its real this time. We should get out."  
  
Even as I say the words, I can feel the heat from the next room. Hear the crackling of the flames. From the look on Erik’s face, I know he hears them too.  
  
"If it was Logan smoking in bed again I swear I'm going to rip every last bit of metal out of him, melt it and infuse it back into his bloodstream.  Slowly." The last threat is muttered barely under his breath as his undershirt slips into place.    
  
In another life, I might have rolled out of bed, hopped into my clothes and evacuated with time to spare, but in this one...  
  
I can't help the frustrated groan that escapes my lips. Erik looks at me, annoyance and concern creasing his brow.  
  
That’s all you’re wearing? You’ll catch your death...  
  
"Can’t seem to get the pants on. We don’t have time, so just help me into the bloody chair already."  
  
**_Charles._ ** **.** . regret floods my mind.  
  
**_It's not your fault old friend._ ** My sending is almost a caress. But I try to sound as brisk and as business-like out loud.  
  
"I’ll be fine. Let’s go before..."  
  
A tendril of smoke snakes under the door. The heat is becoming unbearable.  
  
"At least put on a coat", Erik huffs, "we’ll go out the window."  
  
"I’ll... think of something on the way down. Now get us out of here."

  
...

  
A grinding sound of masonry being demolished and a white-knuckled eternity later, my chair touches down on the lawn, to the sound of tired bickering.  It's almost a reflex these days. Somehow, Erik does this to me.  
  
"One wonders where you learned to fly."  
  
"Shut up. You're heavier than you look."  
  
"Says the guy who levitated a bloody stadium. And you had better put the window back the way you found it when we rebuild. Again."  
  
"Didn’t someone say something about houses that burnt down built character..."  
  
"Not that I remember..."  
  
I’m operating almost on autopilot at this point, half trying to placate Erik while mentally searching for the other students. It takes only moments but they feel like an eternity.  
  
**_Charles. Are you alright?_ **  
  
**_Yes, yes I’m fine._ ** ****__  
****  
**_Are the rest..._ ** ****__  
****  
**_The students are out._ ** The relief is palpable in my sending. **_I really should stop thinking of them as children. Kurt and Pietro assisted with the evacuation._ ** ****__  
****  
**_Good_ ** **.** ****  
  
"Professor!"  
  
Scott and Jean come round the building at a run.  When they see us standing there Scot sags with relief. Jean smiles, then does a double take.

Erik glares at her, projecting as clearly as he can. **_Shut it, Miss Grey. Unless you want everyone else to know what you’ve been doing with Summers._** ** _  
_****  
**I sigh. **** _Erik... I'm fine. We don’t need to threaten anyone._ Out loud, in my most calm and professorial voice I say, “What. Did I miss a button?”  
  
“No no. You look... fine.” Jean blushes, flustered.

A worried voice in my head.

**_You’ll catch your death.._ **

**_You sound exactly like Erik. One mother hen is more than sufficient for this, and indeed any, establishment._ ** ****__  
****  
**_Well if you didn't insist on evacuating wearing nothing but your rather creased plaid boxers..._ ** ****__  
****__  
**_In my defense, the room next door was on fire at the time._ ** ****__  
  
**_I told him. But would he listen? No, because some people are just appallingly stubborn._ ** ****__  
  
******_Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?_ ** I send huffily.  ** _I’ll have you know my control is impeccable. Scott, and indeed the others see nothing but what I want them to see._**

Out loud, Erik sighs and snaps irritably. "How is this conversation even happening.  Will someone start putting said fire out?"  
  
"Since said fire is mostly on the second floor and has now reached the roof..." I muse thoughtfully for a moment, then make up my mind.

"Scott. Can you gather the students here? They’re in the field out front. I think this is as good a time as any for some practice."  
  
Scott snaps to attention, nods quickly and walks off.  
  
"Oh. And if the raincoats are still unharmed, Jean, could you fetch them for me? We will need them for this demonstration."  
  
Jean’s eyes unfocus for a moment and I can feel her tugging at something. The building quivers ominously for a heart-stopping moment.  Erik grips my shoulder painfully and I hold my breath. Then a pile of raincoats shoot out of the building, breaking a window, before coming to rest at our feet.  
  
"Nicely done." I tell her, smiling, even as Erik mutters "Pity about the glass."  
  
A lithe dark figure comes stalking out of the darkness and a worn, grey, fluffy blanket is dumped unceremoniously into my lap.  
  
"Ah. Thank you, my dear."  
  
Raven rolls her eyes at me before stalking off.  
  
Erik looks at me, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Impeccable control?"  
  
"Shut up. It's just ... starting to get chilly. That’s all." I unfold the blanket so that from the front at least I’m now completely and decorously covered. Just as the first of the students come trooping over.  
  
**_You seemed to be enjoying the view._**  I allow myself one self-satisfied smirk at his twitch before I turn back to business.  
  
Turning to Scott, "Hand out the raincoats please, mind the glass, don't cut yourselves.    
  
"Ororo? Would you mind putting out the fire? Without getting the rest of us wet? We’ll move back if you need us to."  
  
The African girl flashes me a brilliant smile before levitating into the sky. Dark clouds roll in from all directions.  
  
Erik murmurs softly, skepticism in every syllable "I think we should move back a bit."  
  
"No. Wait. I think she’s got it", I whisper back.  
  
A highly localized thunderstorm dumps buckets of rain over the burning building while we watch from a few feet away. Occasional stray drops patter down on us but we’re otherwise dry.  
  
"Oh, ye of little faith." I grin up at Erik proudly. Who exhales loudly, casting his eyes heavenwards.

“Can you believe this man?”

 

...

 

  
The last flame flickers out and the storm dies down. The clouds clear just as the sky starts to lighten. A rather gloomy predawn light illuminates the still smoking wreck of the building.  
  
"Well, at least the first floor looks alright."  
  
"We're going to need alternative accommodation for a while. I think... yes. There is a hotel with rooms available. I’ll just ... convince the management." Unconsciously, I've already started to reach out with my mind, seeking.  
  
Jean puts a hand on my shoulder. "I think you’ve done enough for the night. We’ll handle the rest."

As I open my mouth to protest, she cuts me off, "We’ve sent Pietro with some of the students already, Kurt is taking the rest and will come back for us".  Then she flashes me a cheeky smile. "If you really want to help, you can pay.  
  
I would have argued but Erik gives me a Look.    
  
"Fine."

  
...

  
I sense Erik’s surprise as we are shown to our room. Which is the only hint he’s been caught off-guard. One would never have guessed from the permanent scowl on his face.  
  
As the porter bows himself out of the room, Erik turns to me, gesturing towards the Presidential Suite complete with luxurious four-poster bed.

“Did you do this?”

"My friend. You wound me. Would I ever ..."  
  
**_It was Jean. Probably. Anyway it's paid for. Let's just enjoy it while it's ours._ ** ****__  
  
"At least we're alone now. You can stop pretending to be wearing clothes."  
  
"Why Erik. So anxious for me to drop my pants?" But I stop focusing.  A shiver runs up my spine as a wave of exhaustion washes over me.  
  
"We need a bath and then we're going to bed."  
  
"So go run us one. I feel... filthy."  Erik looks up at that and catches me smirking.  
  
**_You know, I don't even know why I let you push me around like this?_ ** ****__  
****__  
**_Just admit that you like it._ ** ****__  
****__  
**_Fine.  But then we're going to bed_ ** _._  
  
My smirk widens.    
  
"TO SLEEP DAMN IT CHARLES."    
  
"Yes. Yes. Old friend. To sleep."    
  
_Eventually_ .


	2. Chapter 2

“So. Any idea who or what caused the fire last night?”  
  
“John said when he woke up and his room was on fire. He’s not quite sure what happened and he doesn’t remember the dream.”   
  
Erik gives me a questioning look.   
  
I stab at the bacon on my plate, shattering it in my attempt to spear it.   
  
“I don't know Erik. I m inclined to believe him on this”. I think back, trying to recall what had happened before the alarms went off.  “At least, I don’t think he did it on purpose.”   
  
“Huh.”   
  
“I have got the PhD and everything.”   
  
“So you’re saying that we work on his control this technically shouldn't happen again?”   
  
“In theory yes. I used to be a bit of a rake but since I found you, I haven’t even so much as glanced at anyone else. Not even the rather stylishly dressed young female who seems to be checking into the hotel even as we speak.” I smile disarmingly, but soon grow thoughtful.   
  
**_What is it Charles?_ ** Erik turns around to look then looks back at me.   
  
**_Something doesn't quite feel right. But I don't know what it is... yet._ ** ****  
  
Erik knows better than to push for an answer. Instead, he sits there silently brooding, brow furrowed, eyes stormy. I make one last attempt to reassure him before the day is irrevocably ruined.

“Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I’m just jumping at shadows.” 

“Huh.” But he turns again to look at her, staring intently. 

  
... 

  
I heave myself out of the wheelchair with a huff of effort and into the plush bed, sighing as the comforter puffs up around me. The tension of the day begins to ebb.   
  
“Well. That went fairly smoothly. With any luck, we’ll be back in the Mansion by the end of the week.”   
  
“If you ignore the near accident today. For a kid with super speed, Pietro spaces out a lot.”   
  
“If you hadn't caught the beam…”   
  
“I’d have brained him. Yes. One more death on my non-existent conscience.” Erik scowls ferociously. “What did he think he was supposed to be doing there in the first place anyway.”   
  
“Don't look at me. I’m just trying to keep out of other people’s heads. Cause some people I could name get all touchy about it.”   
  
“What. Seriously Charles? You’re going ethical on me now?”   
  
“It's also kind of ...annoying... to read that boy.”

Erik quirks an eyebrow at me and I mutter, embarrassedly, “Its the superspeed. Everything whirls so fast... it gives me a headache.”

“Charles. You need a bath. You’re getting construction dust and god knows what else on the bed.”  
  
“Gah. Taking a bath here is a pain. Not having grab rails is a pain.  Having to fumble for the soap in an unfamiliar place is a pain. Don’t even get me started on the height of the bloody sink.”   
  
**_Erik. I want to go home._ **

“Even if the bathtub is huge and has jacuzzi functions?”   
  
“What has that got to do with anything.” I snap irritably. Then as I catch the look in his eyes, my mood mellows.   
  
**_Care to join me?_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ **_Thought you’d never ask._ ** **  
** ****

****  
...

  
“Open your eyes Scott.”   
  
“Can’t. It's too dangerous. Need glasses.”   
  
“Trust me. You’ve got this.”   
  
A thin sliver of light. The room slowly swims into focus. What is surprising is that the molded off-white cornice fails to explode in a crimson burst of energy.   
  
I take the time to drink at the details, to admire the tiny leaves and fruit recreated in the creamy plaster.   
  
“But... I could never do this before.”   
  
“Yes. You can. I told you that you can control this. You have to trust yourself.”   
  
I run my fingers down the bedsheets feeling the textures and seeing for once the subtle textures in the linen.   
  
I see my glasses on the bedside table. Its funny but I’ve never really seen them from the outside. Until now.   
  
I hear a familiar voice calling my name.   
  
“Scott!”   
  
Looking up in excitement, I turn to face Jean in the doorway, only to see her collapse to the ground, struck by the beam that blasts from my eyes...   
  
In confusion, I look around me, seeing the destruction I've caused as if for the first time. The plaster on the ceiling cracks and the dust rains down. Even as I turn to look, the windows explode outwards, sending shards of glass flying out into the street.   
  
I close my eyes, before I can cause further damage, squeezing my lids shut as if by the sheer pressure alone I can force the damage to revert, will myself to forget…

 _Jean’s body lying limp and motionless in the corridor._   
  
“Someone?  Anyone? Help!  Professor!”

  
... 

  
A dark corridor in the mansion. Haughty looking portraits look down on me, lips twisted in supercilious sneers.   
  
“They talk about you, you know. When you’re out of range.”   
  
“The freak who can’t control her powers.”   
  
_No._ That’s not true. I push that poisonous thought away firmly.  Too firmly. The walls shake with the force of my denial.   
  
“Who will be next?”   
  
_Apocalypse, armor already ripped off by the Phoenix Force, skin peeling off, exposing the muscle below._   
  
“Who are you going to disintegrate today?”   
  
_An image of the Professor, scattered like confetti by powers I can barely control._   
  
No . I feel the building tremble, even as I shudder in fear.   
  
“No!” 

  
... 

  
The heat and the dust are familiar. I look around the hovel I used to call home, noting the crude painting of Mystique, lovingly taped to a wall.   
  
I take my time, remembering the rebellious thief I had once been, before I met these people.  Before I changed. Then I turn to the woman in the doorway.   
  
“I know your kind, witch. What do you want with us?”   
  
“Oh. Nothing.” Her lips curve upwards in a cruel smirk. “I just need you to pass a message that’s all.”   
  
Thunder rumbles ominously in the background.   
  
“Tell Erik Lehnsherr to meet me at the mansion tomorrow.”   
  
“Or what.”   
  
“Or this”   
  
An image of the Mansion burning flashes before my eyes but this time, from the agonized silhouettes in the windows, I know none of us made it out.

It’s incredibly tempting to call lighting down on the girl but we’re probably indoors for a reason. As her smirk broadens into a feral grin, I know she knows.   
  
“Get out of my head.”   
  
“With pleasure. Its a dump in here.”   
  
“And just so you know none of this was simply a dream, I suggest you check on Scott and Jean tomorrow.”   
  
The room we’re standing in convulses, as if to tear itself apart. The girl laughs maniacally. “Or maybe You should leave now. While you still can.” 

  
... 

  
The hotel shudders violently, jerking me awake. My skin feels clammy and my nightshirt is drenched in sweat.   
  
Erik looks at me and I don’t have to touch his mind to know he’s worried.   
  
My mouth is dry and my voice emerges as a harsh croak.   
  
“I think we’re under attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet Witch is not canon compliant. She also has the MCU powers of telepathy and mental manipulation. She is not a happy bunny, but she is slightly less damaged than the comic version.


	3. Chapter 3

A weak, pale light filters through the curtains in the breakfast hall.  Most of the other guests have checked out so the breakfast crowd is mostly from the school. The staff are curiously absent as well. Which suits me fine.    
  
Erik raises a questioning eyebrow at me.  Which I pointedly ignore.   
  
“Scott and Jean are resting. Traumatized but they'll probably heal. The hotel…” I shrugs. “They will probably have to do some repairs.”   
  
“They haven't decided to kick us out of here?”   
  
“Why would they do that?” I try to say it casually, but I can't help the bitterness creeping into my voice.   
  
“Charles”   
  
“Fine.  The manager is now that there was a minor earthquake yesterday. I’ve also transferred the funds to pay for repairs.”

“I m not letting the children go back to a place that may or may not become a war zone. You heard Ororo.”   
  
“Fine. But it also sounds like her quarrel is with me. Whatever it is.”

**_Which means you should be staying out of it._ **

“They hurt my students.  That makes it my problem.”  
  
**_I’d like to see you stop me._ **

The cutlery in the breakfast hall rattles ominously and I tense, readying my powers to freeze everyone in place.   
  
“I should just…”   
  
“It's my damn ancestral house that's going to be blown up if this goes pear-shaped.”     
  
The rattling stops abruptly.     
  
“Fine. But stay out of my way.”   


...  


It's a somber drive back to the mansion.  Scott and Jean have insisted on coming. Also, for some reason, Pietro has tagged along too, only to mope moodily in the backseat.  I try to touch his mind but all I get is a flurry of ideas so wild and disjointed that I shut down that link almost instantly.   
  
Erik is morose and distracted. Also, he’s driving. Never a good combination but somehow, we make it back home, mostly intact.

Then the interminable wait begins.  

  
... 

  
An empty mansion. Silence lies heavily in the hallways. Hallways which were once filled with laughter.   
  
I run my fingers through my unkempt hair, noting the greasy sensation before pushing it back and out of my eyes.  I can feel my legs, firm beneath me. The wheel chair sits in the corner of the room. Dusty and unused.   
  
“This is interesting. Quite a complete illusion you’ve built.”   
  
The girl looks at me warily. “My quarrel is not with you.  Please stand aside.”   
  
I move casually towards the chair and dust off the seat before sitting down. Then I look up again at her.   
  
“But you have harmed my students and damaged my school. I am afraid I cannot let this slide.”   
  
I roll myself towards her and she flinches.   
  
“Please, tell me what you want with Erik.”   
  
She sets her jaw mulishly, standing her ground, defiance in every line of her body. It is a vaguely familiar action that I would have liked to analyze had there been time.   
  
Sullen reddish energy flares around her fists.   
  
_So we’re going to do this the hard way._ _  
_  
I continue to roll forwards. Speaking as calmly as possible while pressing on the mental link.   
  
“You are only in my mind because I allow it. Between telepaths, this link is always a two-way street.”   
  
I feel it waver momentarily and press harder.   
  
The sensation in my legs fades. My scalp feels cold.   
  
_Ah. Well. Pity._   
  
Her eyes widen in surprise.   
  
I try to project calm. Try to reason with the side that wants to blast her and get it over with. She’s young. We don’t want to damage her.   
  
“This doesn’t have to escalate. Please. Tell me how we can help.”  
  
As I’m talking, the girl suddenly collapses to the ground. With a disorienting snap, the illusion vanishes, leaving me giddy and momentarily nauseated. Scott and Jean’s worried faces swim into focus.    
  
I bite back a curse.   
  
“She’s here. Where’s Erik?”

  
... 

  
“Why do you keep staring out of the window and starting at random sounds?  I told you I’d know if someone was coming.”   
  
I look up to see Charles sitting in the doorway, a chessboard in his lap.   
  
There’s a subtle wrongness about this whole scenario. I clench my teeth and the small change in  my pocket floats up before me.   
  
“What have you done with Charles?”   
  
The scene cracks at the edges before shattering.  There’s a delighted almost joyful sound. Where Charles had been sitting is a dark haired girl, in a fitted blood red coat, chortling away. Bent almost double in mirth.   
  
“How could you tell?”   
  
“Charles really hates that jumper.”   
  
“Good lord. It's like you two are married or something. Was my mother that forgettable?”   
  
Now it's my turn to feel poleaxed.   
  
“Who?”   
  
“My mother.” The girl straightens up, reddish energy crackling from clenched fists as she advances on me.   
  
“The woman you abandoned. Do you even remember?”   
  
“Wanda! Enough!”   
  
In a flash, Pietro is in the room, grappling with the girl who spits, snarls and claws at him like a wildcat.   
  
“Tell him! He should know what my life has been. What our lives have been in his absence.”   
  
She looks at me and her eyes glow crimson. I tense, getting ready to strike.

Charles clatters to a halt in the doorway his hands at his temples, face contorted in pain and effort.   
  
The girl goes limp in Pietro’s arms.     
  
**_I had to... She’s not hurt. I think...._ ** ****  
  
Pietro mumbles uncertainty into the silence that follows. “I think. What my sister meant to say was. Er. Long time no see?  Dad?” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of POV switching in this chapter. May be triggering for abuse.

Silence. Broken only by Pietro trying to suck the last few drops of milkshake out of his glass.    
  
“So. You’ve known for how long? Cairo?”    
  
“Well. I guessed when we were springing you from the Pentagon. But. I never quite put it together till …” he shrugs. “And then there was never a good time.”    
  
“Because I was was busy destroying the world.”

A gloomy, moody and above all, awkward silence falls again. Pietro fidgets with his straw, tying it into more and more complicated knots.  Then he looks up at me. “Do you mind, if I?”   
  
I shake my head absently. A silver flash and the kid is back with another milkshake and another disposable straw.    
  
“Your mother was right to tell you to stay away from me.” I smirk bitterly, “the people I care about, have a tendency to get themselves shot.”    
  
To this, Pietro grins disarmingly. “Have you seen me?  I mean, I can pluck bullets out of the air. Seriously. You should worry about yourself old man.”    
  
“It only takes one. Bullet. Or arrow for that matter.” Then I sigh loudly, my lips twisting in a wry grimace, “You’re young. You’re fast. You think you’re invulnerable. And you’re making me feel old.” 

The spoon floats out of the glass in front of me, and proceeds to contort, folding itself nearly in half.  Then I realize what I've done and it clatters to the table. 

Pietro looks at me for a moment before intoning solemnly.    
  
"Remember, there is no spoon."    
  
When I look at him in confusion, he sighs and says "You know, it's funny but I used to make lists of the things I’d tell you when I eventually met you. But right now, I can’t think of anything intelligent to say. Er. I’ll be right back.”     
  
“You know what.  Me neither.” I mutter half under my breath as a silver tornado comes back with two more glasses topped with whipped cream and the requisite cherry.    
  
“But in the fight with the Apocalypse guy, like after he disintegrated the walls and things and was like advancing on us I was like oh shit this is like so it. We’re all going to die. And then you were like wham. And this huge iron thing falls out of the sky like. Whoosh. Oh. Wait. I think I need another drink.”    
  
Pietro’s eyes light up as he babbles on while i rack my brain for a suitable continuation.    
  
“I mean. You were like awesome. Frightening yes. But awesome. I wish... Do you mind?”    
  
“But you were beating the guy up on your own too?” Before... the words trail off unsaid. 

_ Before I failed to protect you. Again. _   
  
“Nah. I just hit things hard and run away. I’m good at that.”    
  
“Having spent most of my life destroying things and running away, I think I speak from experience when I say that is a course of action I do not recommend.”  My tone is light but I can’t help the bitterness.    
  
I could end this interview. Go back. Put a pillow over my face until the shame of being such a failure of a parent goes away. Ask Charles to wipe both our memories.    
  
_ Leave. It's not like I haven't done it before. What’s one more broken relationship. _   
  
Pietro fidgets, clearly wishing he was anywhere but here. Still he remains in his seat. if albeit behind a growing wall of empty milkshake glasses.    
  
_ But I’m not going to leave another unfinished mess behind this time.  _   
  
“Pietro? I’m sorry if it's difficult, but what can you tell me about Wanda.” I watch my son’s face darken. The look of hurt in his eyes like a knife twisting in my gut.    
  
_ I deserve that. _   
  
“I think, all things considered, I was probably luckier than my sister…”   


  
...     


  
Jean looks up as I wheel myself into the room.    
  
“She’s sleeping?”    
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Did you have to?” I wiggle my fingers near my temple vaguely?    
  
“Only once. I wasn’t sure we wanted her up just yet…”    
  
I watch her, noting the steady even breaths.    
  
“I’m going to try something.” Jean looks at me and sighs.    
  
“Be careful.”    
  


...   


  
A dense fog surrounds me. Then air is cold and damp. The wheels of my chair crunch on the gravel.   
  
Strange deformed shadows circle closer. Dark beast like forms with reddish glowing eyes prowl in my peripheral vision.      
  
I hold out my hands placatingly.  “I mean you no harm.”    
  
One of the shadows coalesces out of fog and stalks towards me.  Saliva drips from its jaws in viscous runnels. 

 

...

 

“We were I dunno, teenagers when her powers manifested.  She used to tell me everything that she said everyone was thinking.”     
  
“I didn't have my powers yet so I thought it was a joke. But she'd go on and on about how boys would stare at her and think all sorts of things.”     
  


...   
  


A dulcet voice speaks from the darkness.     
  
“They all said that.  Hey little girl. Wanna come play with me? I bet I could make you feel real nice.”       
  


...   


  
“She also said that she could make people do anything she wanted.  Anything at all. But she'd never do it to me. Because I was her brother.  I didn't understand any of it.”    
  


...   
  
Darkness fountains upwards and forms into a figure.  Dark curls tumbling across pale skin. Dress the color of dried, hugs womanly curves. The beast pads towards her, pressing against a pale thigh and she scratches it behind its ears absently.   
  
“No one really wanted me around.  Except for the older ones. But it felt nice for a while. Being wanted.  Being loved.”    


 

...   


 

  
“There were terrific rows at home when our foster parents found out.”    
  
“They called her”, here he pauses, eyes hard and angry.  “Well. We can imagine what they called her.”    


  
...   


  
“In all fairness, only the women ever complained.”  The beast snarls softly next to her.    
  
“But all of them cast me aside after I had served their purposes.”    
  
A snarl which rises ending in a snap of steely jaws.    


  
...   


  
“They told me she was sick.  Said that they had sent her to a hospital.  By then my, mutation had kicked in so it took a week for me to search every registered clinic and hospital in the country...  There were a lot of mysterious alarms going off that week, but I think everyone was distracted by you... ah shooting the president.”  Pietro shrugs, a tired frustration in every line of his body. 

  
“I never found her.”   
  
“Until she showed up again this time.”  His fist hits the table softly and he rests his head on his other arm, curling up as if in pain.    


  
...   


  
“They locked me up and tried to fix me.  TO CURE ME they said.”   
  
A mental scream makes me double up in pain.  I rest my aching head in my lap, fighting down waves of nausea.   
  
Delicate fingers grasp my jaw, dragging my head upwards.  Crimson power blazes from reddish eyes. “Their cure failed.  Why are you still here?”  
  


...   


  
I reach across, pushing the milkshake glasses aside, reaching blindly for my son's hand.    


“I promise you, we’ll think of something.“    


 

...   


  
“I once knew another person like you.”  I say as calmly as I can. Holding her gaze.    
  
“Really?”   
  


...   


  
Pietro looks up. His eyes are red but hopeful as I fumble for words to say.    
  


...   
  


“He too was lost in rage and anger.  Because of bad things people did to him.”     
  
I sense the interest and continue even as I project the images in my mind.  “Even now, there are bad days. But we all have bad days. I, myself have had a string of spectacularly bad days.”     


  
...   
  


“Because if anyone can do anything. Charles can.”    
  


...   
  
  
“They call me a Witch.  Bad things happen around me.  It is my skill.”    
  
“I think there is someone you should meet.”     
  
The woman’s lips curve upwards in a cold smile even as she shoves me backwards into the darkness. Her voice echoes around me.    
  
“This is my place of power. You may bring him here.”    


  
...   


  
I come back to my body with a shudder. Jean watches me warily but I’m a little too tired to care.    
  
“I need to talk to Erik.” I mutter, rubbing gritty eyes, joints creaking as I stretch.  Note to self, do not attempt this again while seated in an uncomfortable wheelchair.    
  
“He’s out with Pietro. The whole father-son bonding thing.” Her eyes unfocus, “They probably won't be back for a while I think.”    
  
_ I think you should rest.  _   
  
I can't help but wince as overused mental channels protest. Jean casts a sidelong glance at me.    
  
“Ow. Ok. That I didn't expect. I. Think I’ll go lie down for a bit. Wake me when they come back?”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scarlet Witch is not canon compliant.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude.

I wake between sheets, in a bed.  Tentatively, I crack open an eye only to be stabbed cruelly by the sunlight streaming in through the window, causing me to groan and turn away.  
  
“And a good morning to you too. Or rather.  Good afternoon.” Erik flashes me an amused grin. “What made the industrious and hardworking Professor decide to sleep in this time?”      
  
“Arrgh Erik.  It's like being hungover. But without the dubious pleasures of being drunk first.”    
  
“What is?”  
  
“Talking to your daughter.  So I should have just talked to her normally, but... Suffice to say, she's a little unstable.”     
  
His face darkens.  “Can you help her?”  
  
“Well. Actually, she wants to talk to you.”    
  
A momentary look of panic crosses Erik's face before his mouth twists into a wry grin.  “Me?”  
  
“Well.  Yes. And she wants you to go to her. Don't panic, I'm sure between me and Jean we can set up something. But, she's not as nearly as controlled and she's quite sensitive.”    
“Which means?”  
  
“If you were planning to hide anything, I don't think it's going to work. Seriously, this is the perfect argument for why we should really identify telepaths early and train them young.”  
  
"Great.  Why don't I just flash her a glimpse of my dark and tortured soul, while hinting at my spectacular body count, so she panics and runs for the hills, never to be seen again?  Then we can get on with putting the school back together."  
  
I pause, wondering searching for the words to convey to him what else I saw in her mindscape.  The vocabulary eludes me even as my head continues to throb.  
  
“What did Pietro tell you?”  
  
“That they passed through a few sets of foster parents before one of them finally committed her to some sort of mental hospital.”  
  
“Mostly correct. Except that it was one of the fanatical groups that were actively experimenting on mutants. Looking for”, my lips twist in a painful smirk, “a cure.  There were quite a few of those groups around. Especially after the whole floating stadium thing. And ‘tis fatally easy to make young children believe that they are horrible. ”  
  
“My fault again.”    
  
“Old friend.  I have always had hope.  But only if one discounts the years immediately post Cuba which I wasted trying to silence the voices, growing  increasingly scruffy and obsessing how I would sock you one if we ever crossed paths.”  
  
“Which, just coincidentally.  It occurs to me that by now you would have... you know…”  
  
“Gah.  Don't talk about it.  My head hurts. While you were off with Pietro, I was trying to figure out, how much damage there actually was.”  I smile ruefully, rubbing my scalp.  
  
“You, like you said, could have woken her up and talked. Like a normal person.”  
  
“It's just faster, telepathically.  There's none of this, fumbling for words, decoding meanings behind gestures, and you are changing the subject.”    
  
“So you're not projecting at me because”, the shark-like grin is suddenly back, “you're mentally... sore?”    
  
Even through the dull ache, I catch a glimpse of his mental image. “Oh good god Erik.  That is a terrible, terrible thought. Especially if I didn't know you were joking.”  
  
“I never joke.” He tries to put on his sternest expression but can't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.    
  
_Except maybe with you_ **.** “Ok fine.”  He picks up on the not so subtle wince.  “I won't project if it hurts you.”  
  
“Just hold me.  Calm your mind and try not to think anything too loudly.” An eyebrow arches up in amusement.  “Ok. Fine. If you must. You may think of that. Is that all you ever think about?”  
  
A mental barrage of dark amusement and ... other things.  My heart skips a beat and my face flushes.  
  
“Oh dear”, I manage to gasp out.    
  
As long arms wrap solicitously around me, I relax into the embrace, murmuring “since you were clearly in the mood, why don't we just ah… carry on.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles references T.H White The Once and Future King “It is so fatally easy to make young children believe that they are horrible.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Remember. Be honest.” Charles admonishes from the couch he’s reclining in. Jean is standing next to Wanda, who is already lying back, eyes closed. Periodically, I see a silver blur zip past the window. Probably Pietro. Burning off nervous energy or something.  
  
“Sure. Honesty. Right.”  
  
“Have a little faith in yourself.”  
  
“Hunter of Nazis. Murderer of Presidents.  Horseman of the Apocalypse. Why would I not have faith in myself.”  
  
“You know what I mean.”

“Just do it already”, I huff, leaning back in the last chair in the room and closing my eyes, “before I lose my nerve.”

...

A younger Charles lounges casually in a leather chair in the library of the mansion.  In this projection, he’s looking well groomed and dapper in a waistcoat. His pants are neatly ironed, his collar starched, his hair immaculately groomed.  He looks every bit like the annoying trust fund kid he was when I first met him. He looks up as I enter and flashes me a brief smile.

“If you’re ready, you should take my hand.”

“Putting on a show for me Charles? Aww you shouldn’t have.”

“Guilty as charged. Indulge me.  I so rarely get the chance to dress up anymore.”

His hand is warm in mine as he leads me to the doorway and it squeezes mine comfortingly, as I step into the darkness beyond.

 

…

 

For an instant, I’m surrounded by an inky darkness. Then the scene brightens to reveal a sunlit courtyard. A dark haired girl stands just a little way ahead, watching crystal clear water rise and fall in an ornamental fountain.  
  
There’s a coolness in the air and a sense of idyllic peace.  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
“Oh father. Don’t you remember? Its Genosha.”  
  
She turns around to take my hand.  
  
“It's a land where all mutants are free. Under your rule. We’re safe here.”  
  
She gestures in a reddish arc of energy. “No more hiding our powers if only to gain grudging but fearful acceptance.”    
  
_No more fearing the mobs that would kick down our doors and kill our families._  
  
The thought comes almost instantly. “Charles would like this. I blurt out. Where is he?”  
  
“Who else was this garden built for.”  
  
I shake my head, uncomprehending even as I am lead to a memorial plaque.  Willows surround it, leaves rustling in the slight breeze.  
  
A chill goes up my spine as I read the words inscribed on the plaque. Xavier memorial garden. _Oh no. No no no. This can't be real._  
  
“Wanda. This is not what I want.”

...

  
The courtyard is gone. Instead, dry leaves and twigs crunch underneath my feet. The air smells familiar.  I don't have to turn around to know that there will be a house in the clearing behind me.  
  
“Daddy?” A little voice calls my name.  
  
_Oh no. Please no_ . I fall to my knees, eyes filling with hot tears. Tears I will not shed.  
  
“No, Wanda.”  
  
The scene blurs.

 

...

 

An empty room. The walls are white. The ceiling is transparent. There is a thin mattress neatly made up on a glorified shelf in a corner that serves as a bed.

The voice comes from all around me.

“Tell me what you want. I can make it happen.”  
  
I sag to my heels on the floor feeling drained. Enervated.  
It was easier here. Easier because I could say I was in prison. That I couldn’t have done anything else. A moratorium.

Like floating suspended in a cloud of iron shards, while death and destruction happened somewhere else. While a new world order was created. It was a brilliant unthinking peace that superseded the pain. A peace of sorts.

_But Peace was never an option._

An image of a school surfaces in my mind. A scholarly sanctuary from the world. Where children with mutant powers are taught control so that when they eventually integrate back into society they can be ambassadors, who teach others not to fear.  
  
_It's definitely not perfect. And it will in all probably take too long.  But for now._ My resolve firms.    
  
“I have what I want.” I look into the eyes of the girl before me, noting that her projection seems to have reverted to a much younger child like form. She’s still wearing red, but now the dress has a frilly lace detail and a teddy bear patch on the front. A crimson headband keeps her hair out of her face.

“What do you want.”

“What I want?” She chews her lip, thinking. “I shouldn’t want anything. When I want things, bad things happen.”

“I’m alive. Scott and Jean are alive.  The school is still standing. More or less.”

“I, want to not be a freak anymore. I don’t want to hurt people.”

“You’re not the only freak around here.” She comes nearer and I awkwardly pat her head as I search for the words to express myself.  Something that Charles always said?

"You are not alone." I pull her into a rough embrace, feeling her warmth against my chest.

"Father..." 

...

  
I emerge, blinking in the light. There’s a calm serenity in my mind.

Charles looks at me, his eyes are red and he hastily dashes away an errant tear.  

“You should have seen yourself.  I should have projected it onto Cerebro and made Scott drive out for popcorn.”  

“Oh shut up.”

Wanda stirs.  Then she turns to look at us and Jean and smiles. A smile like dawn breaking after a long dark night.  

“Will you let us help you?” Charles extends a hand towards her.

She nods tentatively and Jean heaves a sigh of relief. Pietro pipes in from the doorway, “Now that we’re all settled, can we go get something to eat. Because I’m starving.” He adds almost as an afterthought “And since most people here have been have been inside most other people’s minds and therefore know everyone’s deepest darkest secrets, I’m sure we’ll all get on like a house on fire.”

At that, we turn to stare at him and he balks.  

“What, too soon?”

I laugh heartily as I ruffle his hair.

“No, no. Let’s go get something to eat”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vague reference to House of M. Which is as close to any sort of canon this Wanda is going to get.  
> Also, I may have repurposed the "Peace was never an option" quote from X men First Class.


End file.
